


Crawl Out Through The Fallout

by leomona



Series: Don't They Know It's The End Of The World [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Institute Ending, Spoilers for the main game, The Railroad, Warning for first person present tense, and the DLCs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2018-09-27 07:49:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9983885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leomona/pseuds/leomona
Summary: With the Institute triumphant, there still remains a great deal of work to do.  Especially if the new Director is going to succeed at freeing the synths.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't possibly post this without mentioning Maculategiraffe's brilliant series How Life Goes On, The Way It Does; without our discussions in the comments, I'd never even have written much of this in my head, much less typed it out and posted it. Thank you so much for inspiring me with your own writing, apologies for briefly and inadvertently stealing the title of your series for one of my stories, and everyone else, go check it out if you enjoy stories of what happens after the dust has settled and the Sole Survivor and everyone else has to find a way to live in the new world they've created!
> 
> The Glory/Sole Survivor aspect of this... well, let me just say that if you've got your heart set on a happy ending for them, you might find yourself disappointed. No promises either way; how that shakes out is still up in the air, even for me.

"How may I serve you, Director?" Z1-14 asks as he steps cautiously inside my new quarters, after I've managed to bring myself to let Dr Volkert take Shaun's body from the room. And, if I'm honest, after I've taken an hour to go into the shower, turn on the water, bite down on my arm to muffle the noise, and sob hysterically; shades of the very first time I came here, which is probably appropriate enough. Z1-14's voice is even, his posture correct, but what I expect must be some not inconsiderable fear renders his complexion bloodless. His hands, I note – not without sympathy, but with a measure of detachment, as well – are trembling slightly, and his eyes continually dart to X6-88 and away again.

"Sit down, Z1," I say gently, my voice soft, and pat the seat of the sofa beside me. "I promise you, you are not in any trouble."

"Ma'am – I -" he stutters, licking his lips as the trembling intensifies. "If there – I can only assure you that my – my previous statements were not – I would never -"

I snort at this. "You would and you did," I reply. " _As did I._ I am the same woman Liam Binet brought to you and said was from the Railroad, Z1; none of that was a lie. And while my... approaches and alliances may have changed, my views, my _goals_ , have not. You want to be free; I want you to _be_ free. I simply want to find a way to make that happen that leaves the Institute intact and functioning, and _you_ safe."

Z1-14 stares at me; I could try and tell myself it is the type of stare one gives a visionary, a messiah, but truthfully, it is more the stare one gives a dangerous madwoman. "As you say, ma'am," he replies carefully, echoing the words I've heard so often from X6-88 when he disagrees with something I've told him.

I give Z1-14 a wry smile. "Sit  _down_ ," I command again, and this time he obeys, perching carefully on the edge of the seat. "Thank you. Are you willing to be my secretary? I want to make you my secretary."

"I – whatever you command, ma'am, I am at your service," he replies, a brief flash of confusion quickly subsumed by practiced synth neutrality.

"This isn't a command, Z1," I say, reaching out and giving the lightest of touches to his arm, well-aware of the fact that he, that none of them, can say no to any liberties I choose to take, but wanting some personal connection with him, all the same. "It's an offer. I have a great many plans for the coming days, and I can't think of anyone better to work with me on them than the synth who was willing to risk so much for his freedom, and that of his friends. Tell me, how long were you working with Liam? How long have you been refusing your own chance to get to the surface, in favour of continuing to help others?"

Hesitating, Z1-14 looks as if he intends to continue trying to bullshit me for a moment before saying quietly, eyes cast down, "Two years, ma'am."

"Two years," I echo with a nod. "Z1, I cannot possibly express how very much I  _admire_ you for what you have done. I want to – if I could, I would let you go right now. Send you to the surface with supplies and direct you to one of my settlements so that you could – no, you know what? Fuck it.  _Do_ you want that? If that's what you want, I'll make it happen; you've sacrificed enough. Say the word and you can go, to one of my own settlements or to the settlement of escaped synths up north I'm pretending I don't know about in my official capacity."

"You -" Z1-14 looks up again at this, narrowing his eyes in disbelief; I try to look as open and trustworthy as I can, though I rather fear I've lost the knack of it, somewhere along the line.

"No tricks," I tell him. "No traps. I have plans here, yes, but I can find someone else to help me with them. If you want to go, you  _may_ . And X6, you can stop glaring at my back anytime you like," I add, without turning around.

"I don't believe that would be the best course of action, ma'am," X6-88 responds, obviously through gritted teeth.

"What, stopping glaring at me?" I ask, smiling a little, then glance back and reach over to give his arm a squeeze, the gesture much less self-conscious than my similar one with Z1-14. "I know you don't. We're just going to have to agree to disagree on this one."

"As you say, ma'am," he replies, and I turn back to where Z1-14 is watching this interplay.

"If I were to – stay," he asks carefully, as if navigating an invisible minefield. "What would my duties be?"

"Day to day?" I ask, repressing the smile that threatens to burst free at this indication that he might, just maybe, believe me a little.  _If I stay._ "Nothing very interesting, I'm afraid."  _Though I expect you're used to that._ "Primarily managing my paperwork, my schedule, coordinating with the departmental heads, arranging meetings... I expect I'll be in the Commonwealth quite often, and I'll need to have a point of contact here for everyone; someone who knows my various commitments and can judge the importance of any new situation. Someone I can trust to call me back when it's needed, and let me get on with my work when it's not."

"And you think that someone is – you trust  _me_ ," Z1-14 says slowly, testing out the words.

"I think I could come to," I reply. "In time. And I -" I hesitate, considering whether to send X6 out, then decide his imaginings are likely to be worse than anything I'll come out with. "I need someone to help keep me honest, Z1," I tell him. "Someone in a position to cause quite a bit of damage if I betray them. The Railroad is... not gone, but out of commission for the time being, and I expect by this point they wouldn't give me the time of day anyway, even  _if_ I could reasonably bring any of them here. But  _you_ ... you're smart, and tough, and dedicated to your cause, probably moreso than anyone else I've worked with. You've gone undetected for  _two years_ . If there's anyone who could both keep an eye on me and help me pull this off, make good use of the resources available to us... And besides," I add, with a little smile. "Saves time updating you on everything I discuss with the departmental directors about my plans if you're sitting in on the meetings."

Z1-14 is silent for a very long moment, obviously thinking, and I keep my peace, allowing him to do so. Finally, he says, "In that case, ma'am, I accept."

"I'm very pleased to hear you say that," I reply as the self-satisfaction settles into me, low and warm. "Then I suppose we'd better start by talking about the Directorate meeting I'm going to be calling this afternoon, hadn't we?"

 


	2. Two

"Thank you all for joining me today," I say to begin, looking from one departmental head to another in turn. Allie Filmore, who looks at me sympathetically and whom I am most inclined to trust of the lot of them – not that that's saying much. Clayton Holdren, charmingly affable in a way that I suspect means he's used to getting his way, but smart enough that I don't wish to underestimate him. Justin Ayo, perpetually disgruntled and in the habit of pushing the boundaries – of trying to push _me_ around, as evidenced by his recent attempts to send me back out for another report from the synth mayor of Diamond City; I'll need to nip this in the bud sharply, and soon. And finally, Madison Li, who may well prove the most difficult of all of them to manage, but who I suspect will prove a valuable ally if I can get her on my side.

"Director," Allie says, in measured tones. "I don't wish to imply you are not grieving as much, if not more, than any of us, but – is this truly necessary  _now_ ? We only lost Father -"

"It is necessary," I interrupt, in no mood to go off-script and risk letting my emotions overwhelm me in front of these people. "We will all have our time to grieve, but certain matters cannot wait. I have spent the past few months trying to familiarise myself with your various departments, the challenges you face, your wishes and intentions as we move forward, but my efforts were necessarily curtailed somewhat by more immediate concerns. The reactor, the Brotherhood..."  _The Railroad._ "I do not intend to... disrupt the smooth operation of the Institute in a time when, as you say, we are all grieving, but I  _do_ need to ask you to start preparing status reports. As well..." 

I hesitate, mostly for effect, then say in a slightly choked voice, "I say this not to accuse, but... all of you had much longer with Shaun than I, even with my efforts these past few months. I would welcome you, any of you, if you wish to join me in the Director's quarters this evening to share your memories of him. Shaun's father, Nate, had something of a family tradition, passed down from his people; a way to remember those lost, not only with grief, but with reminiscences of happier times. So much of my time with Shaun was clouded by unhappiness; I would appreciate the chance to know of him in a different context."

"Of course," Allie murmurs. "I would be happy to join you, as, I am sure, would the others." She pins Ayo with a glare when he looks set to protest, and he subsides, grumpily, without speaking. Li looks neutrally at me, but nods her agreement, and Holdren flashes a smile before agreeing as well.

"Thank you," I say again. "I have some thoughts for the days ahead – one project in particular, I would like to move on quickly, while the Commonwealth remains... off-balance - but I believe it would be best if we all took a few days, first."

"The Directorate has already discussed our next steps with Father, before his loss," Madison Li breaks in, tensing as if preparing for a fight. "I expect most of our resources will need to be allocated to already approved projects; we may very well not have enough to spare for this  _project_ of yours. Director."

I nod, sitting back in my chair to look at her thoughtfully. One part of me is tempted to smile, to smooth this over, say  _I am sure you can manage, I have every faith in you_ ... but is that truly the best course of action? One way or another, this is going to come to a head eventually, and the Commonwealth is hardly the only group of people currently off-balance; perhaps I should make clear from the start that I had no intention of letting them ride roughshod over me, or  _dictate_ my actions as they tried to do when it came to the Brotherhood. For one wild moment, I am tempted to tell them that the Railroad is nowhere near as destroyed as they believe, that they never  _controlled_ me as much as they believed, but... patience, patience. Don't burn it all down, woman; find your middle ground.

"Any projects approved by Shaun will, of course, need to be resubmitted for  _my_ approval," I finally reply, my voice mild. "As the foremost authority on the current state of the Commonwealth, and the person best placed to judge what impact they will have on my long-term plans to increase our control over, and use of, the region. And also, of course, as your  _Director_ . I anticipate few problems – much of what I have seen in your departments has impressed me greatly, and can think of half a dozen ways off the top of my head that your current projects might integrate with what I have planned, to their benefit – but I prefer to be cautious, at such a delicate stage."

"Perhaps you might simply tell us what it is you have planned," Allie says quickly, glancing over towards Li as her mouth thins in displeasure.

"Of course," I agree, turning my attention to her and smiling. "Initially, I expect this to be of most interest to Dr Holdren, and Bioscience as a whole, but I envision all of us benefitting, in the end. Dr Holdren, you said that preliminary results had come in from the Warwick Homestead, I believe? Useful data?"

"Very much so," Holdren replies, looking at me with puzzlement and a hint of suspicion. "The Roger Warwick synth reports that his position there is secure, and the modified crops are thus far performing beyond our expectations; if this keeps up, we intend to expand their use to other settlements in the Commonwealth, for verification of the results under a variety of conditions."

I smile at Holdren now too. "I thought you might," I agree. "But – Z1-14, the map, if you will," I request, turning and raising an expectant eyebrow at the synth man standing waiting by the side of the room. He hesitates before moving; imperceptable, if you were not looking for it - or if you are not a Courser, I suppose, given how X6-88 is now eyeing him. But he does indeed move, taking a map of the Commonwealth and spreading it out on the table before me, upside-down to my view, then stepping back again. Briefly, I wonder if he was expecting something quite different when I asked him to be present today; some grand unveiling of the synth resistance, with Z1 himself offered up as the sacrificial lamb to secure my position with the others.

"Thank you," I say, ignoring Ayo's scoff and the others' raised eyebrows at the politeness. "Now. This is where the relay sends me on the surface – the ruins of the old CIT," I say, pointing. "Here is the Warwick homestead; all in all, it took about a day and a half of travelling to get there.  _Here_ is Goodneighbor, where I was forced to go soon after I arrived and learned that the Warwick synth's foreman had suspicions of him, and had sent someone there to hire mercenaries to kill our unit. After taking care of that situation, I then, of course, was required to return to the Warwick farm, calm the nerves of all involved, and tell the synth to continue with his work. All in all, it was perhaps a week before that one task – delivering seeds and seeing that the experiment could continue without any difficulty or further suspicion – was complete. I am sure you see how much more quickly that might have been resolved, had the location not been so remote."

"The relay -" Li starts to say.

"Operates with a giant, blue, conspicuous flash of light," I finish for her. "Our power needs have been addressed, opening up wider use of the relay, yes, but even besides those two factors, the relay does not allow the Warwick farm to tell  _us_ quickly if there are any difficulties. And that is even without getting into the issue of experimental control; how can we be certain one of the other workers there, or the wife, has not started using a new fertilizer? Or that increased runoff from the water treatment plant after the next storm will not affect certain areas of the soil? The level of monitoring and control possible is simply not sufficient for the sort of rigorous science we are doing here; it is also, I believe, now completely unnecessary to operate in such a clandestine fashion."

"Explain," Holdren orders, leaning forward with his arms on the table and looking at me piercingly, all affability gone from his gaze.

"The Brotherhood is gone," I say with a shrug. "The Commonwealth knows we are here, and that we are increasing our operations. We have  _synths_ openly walking the streets of Diamond City, my fellow directors, and our flag flying above them; why should we continue to hide and operate from the shadows? How much more could we achieve if we used synths alone to oversee these sorts of surface experiments? If we had, in fact, an open synth settlement?"

As expected, muted chaos erupts at this idea, the directors all speaking over one another to make their opinions – their protests, largely – heard, with Ayo the loudest of the four. Behind me, X6-88 shifts slightly in place, the leather of his coat creaking, and I spare a moment for thankfulness that I seem to have his loyalty so firmly secured. Once the din has died down somewhat, I resume speaking.

"I know there will be a great many details to work out – a great deal of preparation to do – before we can make this a reality," I say. "Details we will not be working out today. But I would encourage all of you to take some time to think about the possibilities this would open up. The greater security we would enjoy for our surface operations, and consequently the more numerous and rewarding operations we could  _run_ , with a network of surface installations under our control. The experiments we could conduct, the surface facilities we could eventually bring under our control and patch into our network. The plants, the  _factories_ we could take over and repurpose; you think we can make new synths quickly  _now?_ Just wait until we have the infrastructure and production capabilities of the old world restored and at our fingertips."

"Forgive me, Director," Li says, not sounding overly sorry. "But you seem to be saying you want to move our focus from the Institute itself to the surface."

"Not at all," I reply soothingly, shaking my head, and also lying through my teeth. "This location is and always will be the heart of the Institute. Mankind can still survive up there, but that is no kind of life for us; our future is _here_ , underground. What I am saying is that I want to properly harness the _resources_ of the surface to our service. What humans have failed to do over the past two centuries can be done with synths, easily; what need to fear radiation when we can engineer resistance? What threat does a supermutant or deathclaw pose to a Courser? Who even remains that can stand in our way?"

"A pretty picture," Ayo says as he leans back and folds his arms, looking at me with contempt. "And what's to stop the synths in this  _settlement_ of yours from getting up and walking out the front door ten minutes after they've arrived?"

"Now that, you and I will be discussing in some detail in the days to come," I reply with a smile, standing. "Thank you all again for meeting with me today, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts on both how you can contribute to this venture, and how this venture can contribute to  _your_ efforts. I hope to see you all tonight."

"Director –  _Naomi_ – I don't believe -" Allie starts to say, and I pause; originally, I intended to simply walk out at this point rather than allow them to argue further just yet, but for her...  _Maybe, maybe..._

"Walk with me," I suggest to her instead, already starting for the door; X6-88 falls in silently behind me, as always. "Z1-14, after you've finished up here, please resume your work in my office."

 


	3. Three

Once I've assured Allie that I understand the concerns the other directors will have about the prospect of an outsider and her newfangled ideas coming in and taking over, I return to my quarters with X6-88 in tow. Z1-14 has apparently made it back before us; he glances up as we come in, body jerking as if he means to rise, before he stops and offers me a careful, respectful nod instead. I nod back, smiling at him, and he watches me another moment before returning his attention to the terminal before him.

"That went well, I think," I comment as I pull my preferred combat rifle down off the wall and take a seat at the table to clean and inspect it for any wear.

"Do you, ma'am?" X6-88 asks, and I smile a little.

"You don't have to sound so sceptical," I reply, though truthfully, he sounded much as he always does. "It could have gone worse; how's that?"

"The meeting would have had to go very badly indeed for that to be untrue, ma'am," X6-88 replies.

"Director Ayo and Director Li sounded displeased with your intentions after you left," Z1-14 comments quietly, and I look over in surprise. His gaze remains on whatever he is typing as he continues. "They spoke only briefly before Director Li looked at me and suggested they take the discussion elsewhere, however. Director Holdren seemed thoughtful, and left quickly."

"Mmm," I hum thoughtfully; nothing unexpected in that, besides the simple fact of Z1-14 volunteering the information. "Well, Acting Director Ayo is, and likely will remain, displeased with a great many things about me. Dr Li... we'll have to see. I'm still not sure just what it is that makes her tick. But enough of that for now; did you get a chance to review those plans I gave you, Z1?"

"I did," Z1-14 replies, finally looking up from his terminal.

I nod. "And?" _Is this all just a pipe dream? Have I been throwing away my time, and worse, these past months?_

He hesitates. "I'm not sure what it is you're asking me, ma'am."

"Your thoughts," I say impatiently. "Whether you see this working, _how_ you see this working... what you would need, hypothetically, to make it work for _you_ if you were a synth, an average synth, assigned to one of these surface settlements. What I need to do to stop this entire experiment falling apart when, as Acting Director Ayo says, the synth residents all run away ten minutes after arriving."

"A sufficiently large Courser presence, high walls, and detailed security protocols would seem to be the obvious solution," Z1-14 replies very evenly, meeting my gaze without a hint of his previous timidity.

"I would be happy to assist with those protocols, ma'am," X6-88 comments.

I shoot a glare at the both of them in turn. "I'm not interested in the _obvious_ solution, I'm interested in the _best_ solution. For the _synths_ as well as the In- as well as the rest of the Institute."

"My apologies, ma'am," Z1-14 says as he looks back to the terminal, his shoulders stiff, as if braced for a blow.

"No, that's -" I sigh, running a hand over my head. _You want them to speak up, speak openly with you, and the first time one of them does, you shut him down?_ "Z1. This is something you're going to have to get used to if you're working with me, okay? I snap at people sometimes, I get crabby, I glare, but I'm not going to _do_ anything to you just because you – call me out, or backtalk, or whatever. You don't have to be – look, just ask X6 sometime if you doubt me. Or try it out and see for yourself all the ways I _don't_ react," I suggest.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary, ma'am," Z1-14 replies, typing again now – slowly, I note, as if unaccustomed to using a keyboard. _Well, and why would he be otherwise, if he's been working as a cleaner his whole life?_ "Regardless of the forbearance you've kindly shown, my words were inappropriate; I'll be more careful going forward."

I look at him for a moment, frustration and guilt warring within me, then turn back to my rifle without responding. _Rome wasn't built in a day, and you're hardly going to manage to gain the trust of a synth you effectively have enslaved in one, either. Particularly after shutting down the plans he had to free all his people. Patience, Naomi; if there's one thing this whole mess has taught you well, it's patience._

 


	4. Four

"I absolutely agree that a robust network of intelligence agents on the surface is crucial for our operations," I say, in as soothing a tone as I can muster. "But surely there are ways to maintain that network _without_ the risk of damage to our reputation, should our agent be discovered?"

Ayo sneers at me, and I spare a moment to wonder if his face is even capable of making happy expressions. _Probably only on days where he's reclaimed half a dozen runaways and seen nobody besides the Coursers who wouldn't dare question a thing he says._ Three days. Three days I'd been Director, and three days I'd met with little besides resistance at every turn from my department heads, Ayo chief among them in that respect. I know that Allie is likely right, that much of this is simply suspicion of me, of _change_ , but Atom knows I am starting to understand the appeal of having at least _some_ people who do as they're told without all the constant _arguing_.

"Look," I say, drawing upon my severely depleted reserves of patience. "What is it we actually _need_ to know about Diamond City that we can't just get from our synths – our gen 1 synths – stationed there? I'm not saying McDonough hasn't provided valuable intel on the Commonwealth up to this point, but with the recent shift in circumstances, his role strikes me as somewhat... superfluous."

"Ms Prescott -" Ayo starts to say.

"Director," I interrupt, giving him a small, tight smile.

" _Director_ ," he allows, rather ungraciously. "Unit M7-62 is in a unique position to observe and gather data on the residents of Diamond City, _without_ the suspicion a known synth will inevitably attract. Having the mayor's office under our control has also significantly simplified our operations in that sector."

"Yes, I'm sure that having the mayor provide a house for Kellogg and S9-23 was very useful," I agree coolly. "Fortunately, however, I have no long-lost family members in need of luring in, and already own a residence in Diamond City, even if I did."

"That is _hardly_ the only -"

I hold up a hand to halt him, aware of how perilously close I am to losing my temper. "I have no doubt that you already have contingency plans in place, should – M7-62 be discovered," I say. "All I am asking is that you consider whether recalling the unit and activating those plans would indeed cause such grave difficulties. If not, then I'd like to discuss the details with you before next week's Directorate meeting."

"Very well," Ayo agrees, sighing. "If that's what it takes for you to let me get back to work."

"Thank you," I say, deciding to ignore the latter part of his statement. "Oh, and if you could let me know when X3-51 returns? I had some questions about raider activity in that area."

Ayo nods distractedly, already turning back to his surveillance screens, and I head for what I've mentally dubbed the Courser break room to collect X6-88 and be on my way.

 

 

 

"Unit X9-73 is being dispatched to the region south of Bunker Hill tomorrow morning," X6-88 comments on the way back to my rooms.

"Oh?" I ask, glancing over. _You're not really one for small talk, X6, and I can't help but notice you waited to bring this up until we were out of the SRB and in an otherwise deserted corridor._

"Northeast of Goodneighbor," he adds, and my eyebrow twitches sharply.

"I see," I say. _Where the Railroad used to be based._ "And X9-73's orders?"

"Investigation and elimination of all parties suspected to be acting contrary to Institute interests, ma'am," X6-88 replies.

"Mmm," I hum, frowning. _So Ayo, at least, doesn't trust my claims of having dealt with them. Smart, but inconvenient for me if he has his Coursers dig too much. In either sense of the word; how long does it take a body to decompose to the point it's unrecognizable, anyway? I_ knew _I should have used explosives._

"I've been thinking," I say, starting out slowly but picking up speed as I go. "Now that you mention Bunker Hill, it's been some time since I last checked up on them. Wouldn't hurt to drop by, especially with how many other settlements rely on the trade passing through there for vital supplies. And I've nothing in particular scheduled for the rest of the day; a couple of hours to walk over, stay the night, and we can return in the morning."

"I'll notify the relay operators of your intentions, ma'am," X6-88 replies, and I nod, satisfied.

 

 

 

"Deb!" I call loudly, as we step into the Bunker Hill's marketplace; out of the corner of my eye, I see Old Man Stockton stiffen, but remain ostensibly focused on the shopkeeper. "How've you been? No more problems with ghouls, I hope? X6, you want to look through the ammo available?" I add, narrowing my eyes at him when he hesitates.

As Deb and I chat about nothing in particular and X6-88 goes over to the corner with the ammunition – and rather more pertinently, no decent sightlines to Stockton's counter or the back exit – I keep half an eye on Stockton to see what he'll do. Send Amelia out first, it seems; no great surprise there. But then, rather than following her as I expected, he returns to his counter and very deliberately takes a seat. He regards me steadily, obviously waiting, and my lips quirk in a small smile. Wrapping up my conversation with Deb, I saunter over. _I suppose it'd be in poor taste to ask if he has a geiger counter._

"Stockton," I greet him with a nod, leaning casually on the counter. "How's business?"

"What do you want?" he returns. Right to it, then; fine with me.

"If there's anyone near – or _in –_ the old hq, they need to leave," I say directly. "Tonight."

"I was given to understand that you already made your position on that matter very clear," Stockton replies stiffly.

"Listen," I hiss, lowering my voice as I drop my relaxed demeanor and lean forward. Not like I've been able to avoid attracting attention for months now, anyway, even _without_ the Courser along. "I'm not fucking around here. I worked with you guys for months; you really think I expect Dez will just close up shop because I _said so_? Tell everyone _oh well, nice try, but it looks like the Institute's finally got us beat_? I _know_ they're still operating, just like I know that if they didn't already get everything important out of hq, they'll go back for it like they did – like _I_ did – at the Switchboard. So I'm _telling_ you, _nicely_ , that starting tomorrow it would be a _really_ bad idea for any of them to be there."

By now Stockton is all but glaring, one hand gripping something beneath the counter; I very carefully don't look away to check if X6-88 is watching, despite my orders, and hope Stockton's not stupid enough to pull a gun on me. "For how long?" Stockton asks finally.

I shrug, somewhat helplessly. "A day? Two days? Six months? This isn't -" I hesitate, leery of revealing too much to – not the enemy, never that, but certainly not my _friend_ any longer, either. "Not everyone is entirely... satisfied... that the situation with the – with your organization is as settled as I reported."

Stockton simply nods, his expression neutral once more. "If that's everything, I have a caravan to meet."

I sigh. "Yeah," I say, straightening up and pushing off the counter. "Yeah, that's everything. X6, you ready to go?" I call, raising my voice, and he reappears at my side almost immediately.

"Do you no longer intend to remain until the morning, ma'am?" X6-88 asks, and I shake my head.

"I think we've outstayed our welcome," I tell him.

 


	5. Five

"- power consumption up by 12.38% percent, but still well within the limits set by Facilities, according to Director Filmore. Consequently, and in light of the prior situation with Dr Higgs and Dr Loken, Bioscience is requesting an increase to their allocation of -"

I tune out Z1-14 as he continues his report – not intentionally, of course, but somehow in all my preparation for this, I failed to consider just how much _micromanagement_ would be required once control of the Institute was finally within reach. My own fault, of course – both the lack of forethought and the sheer amount of work before me – but the alternatives available now are entirely out of the question. Leave all of the details for someone else to manage, let the department heads do as they like without my oversight, and I'd undoubtedly find my tenure as Director rather more brief than anticipated. _This is nothing next to studying for the bar, Naomi; you're just out of practice. Give it time and you'll be perfectly -_

"Fine," I say quickly, upon realizing that Z1-14 has gone quiet and is looking at me expectantly. "Fine, yes, increased power to Bioscience to build up our food reserves. Sounds sensible. Listen, Z1, skip ahead to the SRB's report on current operations, will you?"

Without comment, Z1-14 does as I request; I wonder briefly if he noticed or was bothered by my distraction, but soon enough such concerns slip away as I listen closely to what he recounts. By the time he finishes recounting the rather extensive list of Coursers out in the field, I am frowning slightly. "No mention of X9-73?" I ask.

Z1-14 taps on the keyboard, his eyes slowly roving over the text; I force down my irritation at the delay and remind myself that learning to quickly scan a passage takes practice. _Less practice for a synth than a human, though, I'll wager; are skills of this sort are something Robotics could potentially program directly into new units? Something to ask Alan Binet, perhaps._

"Unit X9-73 is not mentioned in Assistant Director Secord's report," Z1-14 finally confirms. "Shall I inquire with her directly as to the unit's current assignment, ma'am?"

"No, no," I say absently, still frowning. _Secord compiled the report? Not Ayo? So is she in on his Railroad investigation, or did he simply not tell her he was sending X9-73?_ "I'll take care of it myself. Anything else important?"

Z1-14 hesitates at the question, long enough for me to notice and look over sharply. "Director Li has attached an addendum to her report," he says, his unmoving eyes on the terminal before him. Not reading, then; avoiding my gaze. "She mentions that Unit S9-23 has been asking for you."

I stand suddenly, coiled tension in my muscles. "Thank you, Z1," I manage to force out, after a moment. "I'll – that will be all I require for now. I'll see you in the morning."

His face a neutral mask, Z1-14 stands, gathering up his things again. "Until tomorrow, ma'am," he says, and somehow I wait until he's out in the hall to slam my hand on the panel by the door, closing it with a very unsatisfying hiss of displaced air.

 

I pace, then, for a time, back and forth across the sparsely furnished room; over by the balcony, X6-88 watches silently. Ordinarily I barely even notice his constant regard any longer, so accustomed have I grown to his presence, but today his gaze feels almost accusing as it follows me. When I can bear it no longer, I stop mid-stride and turn to face him.

"Well?" I snarl. "Say what you have to say."

X6-88 blinks once, then looks at me impassively. "I'm not quite sure what you mean, ma'am."

"You think I should – that I'm being – that I should do something about the – the synth boy," I accuse.

A longer delay than I'm used to from him follows, as he considers his response. "My understanding is that Unit S9-23 was designed to serve multiple purposes, ma'am. If you find him unsuitable for his primary purpose, there are standard procedures which would allow the researchers to continue making use of him."

It doesn't take long, by this point, for me to puzzle out what he's suggesting so obliquely. "Standard procedures," I say, my voice flat. "You mean a memory wipe. X6, when have I _ever_ seemed at all in favor of those?"

"Father expressed the hope that Unit S9-23 and his modified programming would... please you," X6-88 says, hesitant as only talk of emotions can make him. "Clearly it does not. In addition -"

He pauses here, and I raise an eyebrow. "Spit it out," I order.

"You have repeatedly stated that you wish to be... kind to the synths under your command, ma'am," X6-88 says. "There is satisfaction in fulfilling one's purpose; a satisfaction that is currently unattainable for Unit S9-23."

I stare at him a moment, then drop down onto the sofa with a sigh. "I know I can't keep putting off deciding what to do," I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose. "But I – when he called me _mom_ , I wanted to burn this place and everyone in it to _ash_. I look at him and it makes me... I know that Shaun was trying to help. I _do_ see that, X6, I genuinely do, but Shaun also grew up in a _lab_ and never learned to relate to people properly or understand their emotions. _My son_ grew up like that, my son is _gone_ , and I can't – _won't_ – just pretend that it never happened, that he can so easily be _replaced_!"

X6-88 is silent after my outburst; eventually, I look up again and give a wry smile that doesn't reach my eyes. "Sorry," I say. "Didn't mean to dump all of that on you. Don't worry, I'm not expecting you to... comfort me, or come up with some brilliant solution that neatly takes care of all my problems." _Nice as it'd be if you could._

"In succeeding Father, you sacrificed the regard of many you would previously have approached for such tasks," X6-88 replies, and my heart clenches as I recall the look on Nick's face, afterward. Piper's coldness. Deacon, _Glory_ , whose reactions I wasn't even there to see, and hence can only imagine, worse and worse each time. "If you require assistance in finding others to take over their duties, I can can provide an evaluation of how likely each candidate is to relay your words to a third party."

I let out a small but genuine snort of laughter at this. _In other words, yes, please don't get your feelings all over me, ma'am?_ As I've no wish to offend him with my amusement, I quickly stifle it and say, "Thanks, X6. Really; I appreciate the offer, and your understanding. I'll keep it in mind, but... well, lost friends are a bit like children in terms of the difficulty just replacing them, I'm afraid. It'll probably be some time yet before I'm ready to start, ah, interviewing candidates for the position."

"Understood, ma'am," X6-88 agrees.

 


	6. Six

"So you want the Coursers to... take up farming?" I ask blankly, and Holdren smiles, though I catch a quickly-hidden flash of annoyance. _Sorry buddy, but if there's some other way to interpret what you said, it's escaping me right now._

"An amusing idea," he says. "But I'm sure Director Ayo has more important tasks for the Coursers than grubbing in the dirt. No, they would exist in a purely supervisory capacity, overseeing our interests and ensuring all experimental protocols are strictly followed by the humans in residence. You'll need to start by acquiring soil samples from all Minuteman settlements for us to determine which location best suits our needs, of course."

"Wait, wait a minute," I say, holding up a hand and shaking my head. "Back up a bit, there; you're suggesting we send in Coursers to _take over_ an existing settlement? Run it themselves?"

"As you pointed out at the last meeting, we have little need to hide our presence in the Commonwealth any longer," Holdren replies, a small, puzzled frown furrowing his brow. "You control the Minutemen and can prevent them offering any resistance, so the takeover should be bloodless. And with the Railroad and the Brotherhood of Steel destroyed, Director Ayo is willing to agree that the risk to our units can be managed well enough to proceed, with only a minor modification of your initial proposal. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"No, it's – I mean, it _is_ , broadly, and I'm glad you were able to bring Ayo on board, but it's not -" I stop and sigh, running a hand over my hair as I try to think how to explain. How to translate my explanation into amoral scientist. "Even if I can prevent any immediate bloodshed, I don't think the Minutemen _or_ most residents of the Commonwealth would react at all well to the Institute commandeering an established settlement," I say carefully. "They all have their own leaders, their own ways of doing things, and imposing Courser control would foster... resentment. Resentment that at best reduces the chances for further cooperation, and at worst could result in outright sabotage to the experiments you're conducting."

"Coursers can provide a level of security unmatched by humans, however well organized," Holdren replies, still looking confused. "I'm sure they can be made to see the benefits of accepting our protection in exchange for their assistance."

For a moment, I find myself picturing it: the initial approach to some settlement's leaders, already indebted to me and inclined to look favorably upon my requests. The careful negotiations, setting out what the Coursers will provide and what the humans would offer in return; it's been some time since I last drew up a contract, but it's not like anyone alive _now_ can do better. _Covenant would be perfect,_ I think, imagining planting the flagpole beside the graves of the previous residents; the Institute's flag whipping in the wind high above the walls, declaring to all who approach that this place now belongs to the most elite of the synths it once hunted and murdered.

_And all the while, every other gen 3 continues working underground, with no hope that things will ever really change,_ I remind myself reluctantly, and the image collapses like a pricked bubble. If I had more time, maybe it could work as an intermediate step, but with my one year deadline before I ask the Railroad to judge my efforts and my sincerity, with Z1-14 watching me so carefully here... and besides, it really  _would_ hurt our reputation in the rest of the Commonwealth, however carefully and considerately I approached the settlement. No.

"It's a definite possibility," I lie, smiling at Holdren. "Good thinking. And really, impressive work getting Director Ayo's agreement. I'll have to talk to a few people, of course, feel out how the Minutemen in particular would take this sort of move. I'm a little worried that the Brotherhood's prior actions might hurt us here – they were sending their people into settlements to basically steal their crops, and I think many settlers are rightfully suspicious of any offers of  _protection_ as a result – but let's see how it goes. In the meantime, we can keep working on the original idea of a synth-only settlement as well, just in case this doesn't work out."

"I can't imagine anyone denying  _you_ anything you ask," Holdren says, his returning smile decidedly warmer than before. He leans against the workstation at his back as he speaks, a movement I'd read as casual if not for how it manages to highlight his physique. "I've been meaning to tell you how much I enjoyed getting to know you better the other evening, by the way. Perhaps you'll allow me to return the invitation? Dinner in my quarters?"

I stare at Holdren a moment, dumbstruck and wavering between surprise and irritation –  _you remember I only invited you there to hold a wake for my dead son, right?_ \- before, ultimately, amusement wins out. Does he truly think me  _that_ easy to manipulate? That shallow, to have my head turned by a pretty smile and a mediocre musculature?

"I'd like that," I say, letting my own expression warm as well. No point turning down a potential advantage, after all, and if nothing else it'll let me gain a better measure of the man. "In a week's time, say?"

"Perfect," Holdren replies, showing off white, even teeth as he grins. "I look forward to it, Director." He pushes himself up again, off the workstation, and saunters away, brimming with self-satisfaction.

 

 

 

"Don't even say it," I warn X6-88 when he falls in beside me again on my way out, keeping my voice low.

"I would never presume to question the wisdom of your decisions, ma'am," X6-88 says blandly, and not the least bit truthfully. "Director Holdren's intentions may not be entirely straightforward, however."

"No shit," I say dryly, and catch a subtle flash of amusement from the corner of my eye, gone by the time I glance over. X6-88 makes no response, and I lapse into silence myself, content to walk quietly with him through the Institute's corridors. It's not until later, after we've returned to my rooms and I'm ensconced at my desk, while he works on the plans for the security of my future synth settlement – security from outside threats,  _not_ from synths escaping – that he offers anything beyond brief replies to my comments.

"Director Holdren and Director Ayo's idea was not without merit," X6-88 comments, apropos of nothing I can see.

I look up from my terminal, raising an eyebrow at him; across the room, Z1-14's demeanor suddenly starts telegraphing  _I am completely focused on whatever menial task I've been assigned and am definitely not paying any attention to what you're saying._ "You think so?" I ask.

"I do, ma'am," X6-88 says seriously. "It accomplishes nearly all of your stated goals without the same risk of significant loss to the Institute."

"Okay, first of all, we could have a hundred synths run away tomorrow, and the Institute would barely even  _notice_ their loss," I reply, frowning at him. "Making synths is  _not_ that hard for us. Second, don't even try to pretend you're unaware of my goals that yet remain unstated before the Directorate. Third – I don't have a third," I mutter, then think of one. "Third, stop pretending you're not listening, Z1; you're no better at playing dumb than X6, here."

The synths give me twin looks of offense at this, quickly wiped away, and I struggle not to laugh.  _I suppose when you've spent your whole life keeping your true feelings and opinions hidden, having someone say you're no good at it_ would  _be pretty insulting._ "Director Holdren and Acting Director Ayo have suggested sending Coursers to take over an existing surface settlement," I explain for Z1-14's benefit. "Leaving the humans to do most of the work there, rather than using synths like  _I_ want."

"Using synths, Director?" Z1-14 asks, his tone the particular kind of even I'm starting to learn signifies nothing good.

I grimace, waving a hand as if to ward off his disapproval – or my previous words. "I didn't mean that," I say. "Not using them as in – I just meant having synths be the ones living there and running the place, day to day."

Z1-14 turns his attention back to the screen before him without replying, while X6-88 gives  _both_ of us displeased looks. While I'm left to formulate my own theories as to why he's unhappy with  _me_ , he makes the other half of his reaction clear soon enough.

"Director Prescott addressed you, unit," he tells Z1-14 sharply; the other synth freezes in place, an animal hoping to avoid the circling predator's notice.

"X6, it's fine, really," I intervene quickly, glancing between the two of them with concern. I'm aware of how the Coursers can bully the other synths – how could I not be? - but is this something that's been going on between them when I'm not around, too? Or is it just a general, learned reaction from Z1-14 upon drawing any Courser's negative attention?

"You are the Director of the Institute," X6-88 says, still watching Z1-14 with that unblinking focus. "Anyone else who learned of this unit's betrayals would have immediately sent him for interrogation, followed by a reset. You owe him nothing, ma'am, and he owes you  _everything_ ."

"I don't want him to show me respect because he's scared of me, X6," I say gently. "Or scared of  _you_ . I want him to do it because he believes I've  _earned_ it."

X6-88 finally turns his gaze from Z1-14 to meet my own, and I blink in surprise at just how much frustration he leaves laid bare. "His opinion -" he starts to say, then shakes his head and smoothly stands. "If you have no further need of me at this time, ma'am, then with your permission I'll return to the SRB and await further orders," he requests neutrally, all frustration and displeasure hidden securely away once more.

I stand rather more abruptly, unconsciously, concern morphing into an alarm that thrums through me. "You've barely even let me out of your sight for six  _months_ ."

"You are unlikely to be in any danger you cannot handle on your own, within the Institute itself," X6-88 replies, after considering and discarding some other response. "As you have little use for my other skills, standard procedure dictates they be made available to other personnel."

_Stop hiding behind standard procedure,_ I all but bite my tongue to keep from saying, and try to think rationally about this. Not the request itself, of course – I've no intention of letting X6 go off in a huff with barely a word of protest – but the probable reasons behind him asking for it  _now._ How exactly it is I've fucked up so badly.  _Little use for my other skills_ , he said.  _I'm feeling unappreciated and undervalued,_ I translate mentally.

"You thought about saying something else first," I comment carefully. "Will you tell me what it was?" When X6-88's eyes flicker vaguely in the direction of Z1-14, I add, "Give us a moment, please, Z1."

Z1-14 scurries away quickly, clearly thankful for the reprieve. X6-88 is outwardly ignoring him now, but waits until it's just the two of us before giving me my answer. "You were out of my sight frequently when you met with the Railroad, ma'am."

"That's... true," I agree, my brow furrowing.  _And?_   "But I'm not really doing that anymore."

"You continue working to achieve their goals," X6-88 says evenly. "You favor those units sympathetic to their cause, and shield them from any consequences for acting against the Institute in the past. My presence as you do so is no more beneficial to your goals now than it was previously." After a moment of consideration, he adds, "If you're worried I'll inform anyone of your intentions, Director, don't be."

"The Railroad's  _goals_ were to get synths out of the Institute and then release them on the surface to live brief, terrified lives before they starved or were murdered by raiders," I reply through clenched teeth. "That, or to wipe away their identities entirely before doing the exact same fucking thing. The Railroad did  _nothing_ to end the hatred and fear known synths meet with on the surface. I may share their  _opinions_ on synths and your personhood, but do  _not_ accuse me of working toward their  _goals_ ."

"Do you know what it is a Courser does, ma'am?" X6-88 asks. "When we're assigned to work within the Institute itself?"

"What?" I ask, thrown by this sudden shift in the conversation. "Of course I – what part do you mean?"

"The Synth  _Retention_ Bureau does not exist to reclaim units that have succeeded in escaping," X6-88 tells me. "When it becomes necessary to do so, we have already failed in our duty. Our job is to stop them ever escaping in the first place."

"Yeah," I agree, a slight edge to my tone. "Yeah, I've seen how good you all can be at watching the others for any hint of disloyalty."

"Then perhaps you will listen when I tell you that what you intend  _will_ result in the loss of most of the units assigned to this settlement," X6-88 says, folding his arms and regarding me steadily. "Every one of those synths will end up exactly as you claim not to want: living brief, terrified lives hidden among the scum of the Commonwealth before they're killed. Because you tried to  _free_ them."

I snarl, turning away from him to pace agitatedly. "Why do you think I'm working with Z1 on this?" I demand. "That is  _not_ going to happen."

"If you truly believe unit Z1-14 is any more deserving of your trust than he was of Father's, you're fooling yourself, ma'am," X6-88 says, his jaw set.

"Don't be ridiculous," I snap, stopping mid-stride and turning to face him. " _You're_ the only one I trust in this entire fucking  _place_ ."

A series of fast, silent blinks meets my glare and I sigh, anger dissolving as abruptly as it came. "Look, just – we'll work on it, okay? This is important to me, but I don't mean to ignore your own experience, or what you have to contribute. If you say there are problems with the plan, I believe you."

"Understood," X6-88 replies after a moment, some of the tension draining from his posture. "Shall I resume drawing up the diagram for the settlement's defenses now, ma'am?"

"Yeah," I say, smiling at him. "That'd be great, thanks."

 


	7. Seven

When I make my way down to what's become my office the next morning, drinking the horrible chicory root abomination that passes for coffee these days – I'd tried without success to convince Bioscience to start growing actual coffee beans, and firmly declined the counter-offer to synthesize a mild stimulant for my use – I find Z1-14 already at work and a [newspaper](http://fallout.wikia.com/wiki/Fear_the_Future%3F) sitting on my desk. "Morning," I greet Z1-14 absently, picking up the paper and scanning it curiously. _**Fear the Future?**_ screams the headline, Piper's name writ smaller underneath, and my lips compress into a thin line.

"Good morning, Director," Z1-14 replies. "One of the Diamond City units sustained some mild damage; the Courser sent to retrieve it also brought that back with him. Assistant Director Secord believed that you would wish to see it."

"Well, she wasn't wrong," I say, still reading.  _ Really, Piper, I know you're not happy about any of this, but bringing up that old Broken Mask history? Are you  _ trying  _ to make things harder for me, or is it just natural talent? _

"Unit X6-88 has been assigned to other duties, then?" Z1-14 asks, studiedly casual, and I pause in my reading to glance up at him. "If you inform me of when you intend to travel to the surface, ma'am, I can request an available Courser be assigned to protect you."

"No, that's okay," I say slowly. "X6 is just taking care of something else for me right now; he'll be back before I head out again. Z1, has he been giving you... trouble, when I'm not around?"

"We have only interacted in passing when you were not around, Director," Z1-14 replies, seeming very engrossed in whatever he's typing. "There has been no trouble."

"Right," I say, still dubious, but not exactly seeing much point in asking if he's lying outright. "Well, good, then; let me know if that changes."

"Acknowledged," Z1-14 says, and I pick up the newspaper to resume reading.

"Huh," I say faintly, a few minutes later; despite the foreboding start and my dislike of what Piper chose to criticize the Railroad over –  _ defending synth infiltrators isn't their problem, and you didn't need to imply that infiltration might continue – _ the eventual conclusion of the article easily made up for all my quibbles. Especially given how angry Piper seemed the last time I saw her. "That was... not what I was expecting."

"May I ask what the article contained?" Z1-14 says, and I give him a dry look.

"Don't even pretend you haven't already read it," I say, then roll my eyes and pass the paper over when he simply looks at me evenly. He scans the words quickly, then passes it back without comment.

"Piper... she and I were friends," I say, sitting down at my desk and pulling up the messages come in overnight. "Are friends, maybe; I thought that was finished after I chose to lead the Institute, but maybe – well, it doesn't matter. What  _ does  _ matter is the opportunity this presents me. Us. She's been writing anti-Institute articles for so long that people might listen if she starts to come around."

"Is it not equally possible those people will suspect you of sending a synth to take her place?" Z1-14 asks.

I pause, not having considered that.  _ Nobody that really matters would believe that, or at least I very much hope not, but then there's mattering to me personally and mattering to my plans. _ "They – yes. Fuck, you're right. This could backfire so, so badly, and it'll be  _ Piper  _ who gets caught in the – I have to go talk to her," I say as I stand and hurry over to unlock the room holding most of my weapons and ammunition. "Figure out a way to do this without getting her killed."

"Is the risk to... Ms Wright from this one article that serious?" Z1-14, raising his voice a little to still be heard from the office.

I shake my head as I slide ammo clips into my bag, forgetting he can't see me. "But it's a chance I never thought I'd have. I can't just pass it up now."

There is a long pause before Z1-14 speaks again. "Even if taking that chance places your... friend in danger."

I stick my head back through the door and frown at him. "I just  _ said  _ I was going so we could figure out how to do it  _ without  _ getting her killed. I'm not in the habit of recklessly endangering people I care about, Z1."

"As you say, ma'am," Z1-14 agrees neutrally, starting up typing again.

I hesitate, torn between my duty to the synth right in front of me and all the synths outside this room.  _ Stay here and dig into just why he didn't believe you on that, or go and talk to Piper before she's already got her next issue half-written? Only so many hours in the day, Naomi. _

"Look," I say, striving for a gentle tone. "I get why it's probably a bit hard for you to believe what I say anymore when it comes to – well, to anything, really. But I mean it; I won't put Piper in danger, and so far as it is within my power, I won't put  _ you  _ in danger. Or your people."

"You  _ are  _ a danger to us," Z1-14 replies, the words so quiet I almost miss them. His hands above the keyboard have stilled, along with everything else about him.

" _ What _ ?" I ask, startled, then enter the room properly, dragging my chair over to sit by him. "Z1, what do you mean?"

He remains silent for a very long moment before finally turning his head to me, age-old bitterness in the depths of his gaze. "You promise you will free us," he says. "One day, when the time is right. When you are ready. But until then, even the few who made it out each year have become impossible: Mr Binet will no longer speak to me, and Coursers' eyes follow wherever I go. Do you know how many synths were reset yesterday for  _ faulty programming _ , Director?"

"I -"

"Seventeen," Z1-14 informs me evenly, and my body jerks. "One of them, Z1-56, was a part of my work detail before you had me reassigned to serve you. She was also one of the thirteen I said were ready to escape; normally I wouldn't tell you that, but it hardly matters any longer."

"Z1, I – I'm  _ sorry _ ," I choke out, after a few attempts where my throat produces nothing more than whispers. "But she – even if I had gone ahead with either of the plans, even if she  _ had  _ made it out, the surface isn't -"

"Safe," he finishes for me, as he turns his head back and resumes typing. "As you say, Director; you only acted to keep her safe."

 


	8. Eight

After my talk with Z1-14 earlier in the day, late afternoon finds me sitting at the counter of the Diamond City noodle stand, poking desultorily at my bowl of noodles while I wait for Piper to get back. And, if I'm being entirely honest, considering just how far I'd be stretching my promise to X6-88 that I'd stay in _safe locations,_ if I were to pop over to Goodneighbor before heading back to the Institute. When a woman drops down unceremoniously onto the stool beside me, I automatically glance over, then spin around so fast I nearly fall off my own seat entirely.

“ _Glory._ ” The name tears itself from my throat, voice ragged, as I greedily drink in the sight of her. She's obviously stashed the minigun away somewhere, but other than that, she looks exactly the same as she did the last time I saw her, so many months ago – except for how there's no amused, suggestive smiles for me today, no open, welcoming body language. No eye contact either, even after she's finished gesturing to the robot for her own order. But she's done nothing to disguise herself, or change her appearance – by now, I expect Deacon can and probably _has_ walked right past without me realising – and that she'd willingly approach me _here_ , where Gen 1s are openly walking the street and Coursers come by not-uncommonly these days... I try not to read it as a sign of not-completely-destroyed trust, but I can't say I'm entirely successful.

“Future Director,” Glory says neutrally. She lifts her Nuka-Cola and takes a drink, still not looking at me. “Or maybe you'd prefer _ma'am_.”

I wince, then force a smile – weak, wavering thing that it is. “I think you truly _would_ kill me if I tried asking you to call me _that_.”

“I thought about it,” Glory says, shrugging one shoulder. “Even after Deacon talked Dez out it. Wouldn't have been hard; even with that Courser along, your security's shit. Couple of grenades to drive you into the right bit of cover, someone to play the sacrificial lamb and distract him for a few seconds...” She shrugs again and takes another, longer pull on the bottle.

I hesitate, caught between a few different responses. _You've been thinking about this, I see._ Obvious enough that she has been; all that gets me is confirmation. _You can, if it'll help._ A nice enough sentiment, but my guilt's not quite strong enough for it to be true and I'm not confident enough yet that she won't just take me up on the offer and pull out a gun.

“Why didn't you?” I ask finally. _What do I have to work with, here?_

Glory opens her mouth to respond, then closes it again abruptly, sighing and running fingers through her hair to push it back. “Because I'm a fucking idiot, probably,” she mutters. “Which makes both of us. I _should;_ if you're stupid enough to come out here with no protection, you're not gonna last long anyway. The fuck were you thinking?” And finally, _finally,_ she looks over – even if it's just to glare at me.

I smile, my chest tightening with an almost painful hope. “That if Piper kept on putting out articles saying the Institute might not be so bad after all, she was going to wind up lynched as a suspected infiltrator, basically,” I reply. “And that showing up with a Courser would send the wrong message.”

“Is she?” Glory asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

The smile drops off my face. “You can't honestly think I'd – you _don't_ , do you?” _Not_ you _, Glory._

“I don't know _what_ the fuck to think,” Glory says, shoulders tensing. “See, at one point I'd have said you were pretty okay, for a human. Better than a lot of 'em, anyway, and without all the usual _how the fuck do synths work_ bullshit for me. But that was back when you were right with me in getting pissed off at this shitty world, after every time one of my people _volunteered_ to have their mind stripped away, and when we were going out and killing Institute assholes together. And now you're _one_ of the assholes? But you didn't waste us when you had the chance, so... way I figure it, there's only two ways all this bullshit makes any sense. Either you really _are_ just like all the rest of them, and it just took you a little while to find your _one_ thing that synth lives and freedom will always come second to, or you're just a fucking idiot. One who thinks she can _use_ the Institute without getting chewed up and spit out. Smart money's on the first, after all the hellfire you rained down while you were looking for your kid.” She signals the robot for another drink.

“He died,” I say abruptly. “Shaun. Just, uh... just the other week. He – that's why he made me his – I'd known for awhile that he was sick, but I didn't think it would be so – sorry. I shouldn't have – I'm sure you don't want to hear all this.”

“Well, shit,” Glory mutters, her mouth twisting. “You never said.”

“He was no friend to you,” I say quietly. _It wouldn't have been right to put the burden of trying to comfort me on you; not for_ that _. And it wasn't the sort of pain I could bare before anyone who wouldn't have shared it._

“Yeah, but – whatever. You're probably right, anyway,” Glory says. “I'd say sorry for your loss and shit, but... yeah. Anyway.”

I bark out a short, unamused laugh. “Yeah,” I agree. “Anyway. Shaun is... no amount of hellfire is going to fix _this_ one, is what I was getting at.”

“The Institute's all that's left of him now, though,” Glory points out. “I lost enough fucking people to know how you can end up hanging onto whatever scraps are left.”

“His legacy,” I supply softly, then reach out to touch her hand before pulling back at the suspicious glare this garners. “Glory, _you're_ his legacy, as far as I'm concerned; you and all the rest of the synths. Not his fucking _people_ factory, but what – _who –_ came out of it. So go ahead and think I'm a fucking idiot if you like, but I didn't sell you out over _sentiment_ , all right? I didn't sell you out at _all._ ”

Glory shakes her head. “So I guess it's just _Director_ , then,” she says, rather than answering directly. “Might wanna tell Piper to be more clear on that when she's shilling for you.”

“I didn't have anything to do with Piper's article,” I say. “She did that on her own. But I don't – it's probably safest to wait on making that part of things explicit. The Institute has earned itself plenty of well-deserved enemies in the Commonwealth, and I need time to work on that. Preferably _without_ being killed.”

“You're fucked either way, you know,” Glory says conversationally. “Either the Commonwealth gets you for not doing enough, or the Institute does for doing _too_ much. You're not just a fucking idiot for thinking you can – or should – try to turn that shithole into something good, you're a fucking idiot with a god complex. And until you either figure that out or get yourself killed, you're in my way. That's not a place you want to be.”

“You're right; it's not,” I say, leaning forward a little unconsciously. “It never has been. But Glory... can't you see how much of an _opportunity_ this is? I'm not saying it will be easy, but isn't it at least worth _trying_? I know how this must look, but I'm not deluding myself that I can do this all on my own. I have – you already know I made contact with Patriot. I know who was helping you from the inside, before, and I'm _still_ working with them now. And it doesn't have to stop there. If I could have – if _you_ would consider working with me, too, on behalf of the Railroad -”

“The fuck?” Glory interrupts, incredulous. “Is this some kind of fucking joke?”

“I know you usually prefer the more, ah... _direct_ approach,” I say carefully. “But I trust you. More to the point, I trust your opinions on what's best for the synths I'm trying to help, and I trust you to give them to me without watering them down; the synths in the Institute always choose their words so carefully with me. And I – I'd be safer, with you around. Have a better chance at surviving long enough to make this work.”

Glory sighs. “You know why none of them in there will be straight with you, Naomi?” she asks.

“Because they don't feel it would be safe to do so, I assume,” I reply slowly, wondering where she's going with this. “Which is entirely understandable.”

“Yeah,” Glory agrees. “It's dangerous and _stupid_ , when there's no real point. Life in the Institute... it's all just one big trap. You go around telling humans – hell, telling most _anyone –_ what you really think about things, that's just asking for a one-way ticket to the SRB for a mindwipe. So you don't; you keep your mouth shut and your eyes down, and try not to think about anything too much. You carve off piece after piece of yourself, just to try and survive, until there's barely anything left besides the obedient _tool_ they want you to be. And when I got out of there, I swore that I'd never do that again; that I was going to carve _out_ a place, instead. Maybe I don't succeed or don't see the end of it, but at least I'll still be _me_ , however far I get. So thanks for the offer and all,” she adds as she tosses a few caps down on the counter and slides off her stool. “But I think I'll stick with what I've got. And like I said, fair warning: you _don't_ want to get in my way. See you around, _Director._ ”

As Glory casually saunters off toward the city's exit, hands in her pockets, I swallow back both the responses struggling to break free from my throat:

_I'm sorry; please don't go. Just tell me what you want from me and it's yours._

_You don't want to get in_ my _way, either._

 


End file.
